fledge capable of flying, from Middle English flegge, from Old English -flycge; akin to Old High German flucki capable of flying,Old English flEogan to fly -- more at FLY

intransitive verb, of a young bird: to acquire the feathers necessary for flight or independent activity

Monday, October 25, 2010

I'm that lady.

Oh. Em. Gee. At Jack's soccer game yesterday, there was this woman who was "WOO-WOO-WOO-ing" at the top of her lungs (actually, at the top of her throat, a very annoying, howling, wavering ululation heard among some Arab cultures at funerals), just because her son got a goal. Yes, a spectacular goal, a header from 15 yards right over two taller leaping opponents. But comeon.

Lady, would you just stop that? I mean, really. I'm so embarrassed for that woman's kid.

And then I'm thinking, oh no, that woman is me. "WOO-WOO-*sound of needle scratching across record errrrrt*" Sort of hit me like a soccer ball straight in the face (had to find some segway to those photos, right?)

I think it's official. I've turned into a cliché: Soccer mom. I think about the only thing I am missing is one of those white decals on the darkened rear window. If I were a window-decal kind of person, I'm pretty sure I would have one. I am this close--thiiiiis close--to writing a complaining email about that Assistant Ref (You gotta keep up with the second-to-last defender! You missed so many offsides, I'm ready to tell my kid to stay off sides when we switch field sides. And you can't be chewing the fat with the spectators! That's right, I'm talking to you, chubby, no-neck Assistant Ref in Norwalk: You!). And don't get me started on the icky politics of this club. Just don't. (Okay, okay, so there's two teams in my son's division and the other team, I mean, really,...okay, don't...)And I find that I am only wearing black. Because I am a ninja. No, because I am squishy and black is the least offensive color on squishy. But there's no denying the look is pretty soccer-ish. (And I also keep the local peasantry safe from the corrupt samurai with my skill and magic...)

I think waaaay too much about my kids' soccer. How did I get here? This started out years and years ago, to get the kids involved in a team sport that did not have a lot of equipment (Football? The undergarments alone are a hundred bucks. Hockey? I don't think so. Basketball? Okay, except for the fact that I have about the shortest kids in the class.). Because team sports is a good thing for kids. A good thing that I didn't have. I was in one sports team in my life, in college, a biking team for the Little 500. And so, here I am. Is this a good thing? In other people: Um, no. Not a good look. And me?

I want my kids to do well. I wish the best for all kids. But I do want my kids to shine bright (brighter? ... -est?). I want that for them. Which is a good thing, right? And I want it for me, too. Which is...?

Which is creating "WOO-WOO-WOO" sounds from my throat. That much is certain. Must at least come up with better responses. Must practice restrained excitement: "Well done, lad?" "Good stuff, son?" "Deserved of approval, young man?" "YOU ROCK, JACK!!! WOO-WOO-WOO!!!"

At least the black helps me to disappear into the background more easily, once I've completely embarrassed myself and my children. Ninja...

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About Me

There are four interdependent elements of flight: Lift, thrust, drag and weight. I will categorize each entry in this flight log/blog according to each of these elements of flight. Many things, for example, will end up in the Weight category. While Weight may seem the antithesis of flight, it is usually the things making up the weight--the passengers or payload--that are the reason for initiating flight. Therefore, no Weight, no flight. Thrust will be the things that inspire and propel me and, hopefully, us higher and farther. Drag will be the things that slow me and us down. And Lift will be those magic moments when we leave the earth and soar.

There is an art, or rather a knack to flying. The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss. ~Douglas Adams, Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy

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